It all came to an end in the sunshine ... another season over.
Pale heroes in the dim floodlit pitch, where water-spirals arc before the chanting flag pass.
We watched it all,
my son and me
and bought the pies and chips and glossy Match-day Programmes,
that promised so much more.
They paraded before us,
in pale sunshine
with their wives and children
a toddler kicks the goal.
He waved as he left the pitch early
gone
applauded.
The seats lie empty now,
just the echoing footstep of my son and me
Season's End.
